"If wild my breast and sore my pride,I bask in dreams of suicide,If cool my heart and high my headI think 'How lucky are the dead.
I never see that prettiest thing-A cherry bough gone white with Spring-But what I think, "How gay 'twould beTo hang me from a flowering tree.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
I never see that prettiest thing-A cherry bough gone white with Spring-But what I think, "How gay 't...
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